Existence in a Nutshell
by Kabbage of Doom
Summary: The worst way to miss someone is to have them sit right next to you and know you can never reach them... The trials of Nellie Lovett as she tries to live with the man she can never love. Rated M for later chapters-eventual Sweenett.
1. How it is

**A/N: Well hai there! Welcome to my first fanfic! 8D**

**I hope you enjoy it-but if you like fast paced stories, this might not be the one for you. I tend to write as if it were reality rather than move quickly through events just to get to the next one.**

**It's kind of mid-movie, and just my own little spin on what you were never shown. This whole story will be from Mrs. Lovetts point of view.**

**Read & Review = Cupcakes!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, the characters would live in my wardrobe. ...the characters do not live in my wardrobe.****

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I listened to the clock tick idly on the mantelpiece.

It wasn't at all like me to brood-not like a certain individual who I knew would be lurking away upstairs, somewhere amidst his dark thoughts and a half emptied bottle of gin. His favourite activities, it seemed, were to agonize and drink; and it was this fact alone that had kept me thinking that evening, wondering, waiting for something to happen.

But what?

I wasn't entirely sure what I wanted anymore, nor what I thought of him. Mr. Todd had come to me as a saviour of sorts, I remembered with a smile, a saviour from my most desolate hours, when all hope had run dry within me and I only appeared to have being because each day might have been my last to rid me of such shameful pauperism. I had sold everything but the clothes on my back and then some, in an attempt to regain a few pennies.

I had been quite aware that I was not alone in my plight: my somewhat of a rival Mrs. Mooney had resorted to stealing away her neighbours cats to slaughter and sell as some sort of improved pie filler. Though I had realised that my business was not doing much better in itself, I would have never considered repeating the act. In honesty, the idea was laughable-far too much trouble than for what it was worth if you asked me. Mrs. Mooney had been cunning in her plan, I admitted it, but not cunning enough.

Word will get around very quickly these days, and it only takes a tiny clump of fur inside a pastry before people begin to ask questions. It was just the same with the job I had then, I reasoned with myself, excepting that people had no fur except for that on their heads and the risk of us being caught ran a lot higher.

It was then that my smile dropped. A hundred pussycat lives were not worth one humans' existence. A wave of nausea always came over me when I started thinking about that. I knew it would only take one careless blunder or accidental slip-up on either of our parts and we were as good as hung.

What had come over me on the day that I suggested that I use his first kill as mince, I'll never know. I had been so overjoyed that he had thought it a wonderful idea, but I now knew a harrowing sense of regret.

To explain this, I thought, I'd have to narrow it down to three conclusions:

One. I had wanted to give him solace and convince him that it was not his fault that Seignior Pirelli had been killed at his hands. Strange though it may seem, I believed this fully. Though Mr. Todd had been a murderer, I did not think for a second that he had first intended to take Pirelli's life. A shroud of instinct could do odd and dangerous things to us, I knew this. Mr. Todd had all the right reasons to be angry.

Two. I had been so desperate for so long and just needed a form of escape. Any longer in the situation I had been in and I was sure that I would have lost interest in having a life at all. I had already been considering selling my body to the men who would take it, but the memory of my poor Albert kept me shy from such matters…Most of the time.

Three. I had been lost in my little fantasy that because of said idea that he thought so brilliant; Mr. Todd would love me at last.

It was no lie. I had always had a soft heart when it came to him, even though I recognised that no good would ever come of it. I'd loved him even before I'd met him, longing for the man who may return to his home and rescue me from the depths. But when he had returned, I knew instantly that I had forgotten about the rumours that later became truth. So lost, he was, in the sorrows of his past, that I had deemed getting through to him an impossibility. And that, I supposed with a conclusive little sigh, would have to be the end of it. I had a job to be getting on with.

Though he would never love me, I knew I still wanted to care for him and take much of his responsibilities upon myself. I pitied him a great deal-he had turned an average job into an uncommon nightmare, and though he thought that he was only doing the world good by ridding of what he considered vermin; I knew that the deaths took their toll on him in the lazy afternoons which followed. I fumbled for the tray that I had slid under the chaise-lounge and stood slowly with a stretch before moving down the little hallway and into the bakehouse.

I would not give him a pie that night; I decided as I eyed the oven, it would be too much of a reminder of his deeds. He seemed a little more despondent than usual, and I didn't want to do anything to provoke his awful temper. I did fear him, even if it was just a little.

So instead it was back to the stove to heat up some of the vegetable stew that I had prepared the night before. The steam rolled from my cheeks as I stirred, warming them against the chill that drifted about the place. Winter was drawing in, and I busied my mind with thoughts of Christmas. No doubt Toby would be in need of a few gifts, and a Christmas dinner would have to be put together; not to mention the decorations that would have to be hung about the shop and the dining area to keep the customers happy. October I had prepared a jar of mincemeat for the mince pies, and already had begun to think about the expenses of a tree.

I never allowed Mr. Todd to enter my thoughts-I would only get carried away.

Spooning the stew into a bowl, I placed it on the tray to carry up to the man himself, feeling my heartbeat quicken as I counted the stairs up to his quarters-reaching the number ten and then realising I could count no further than that, and cursing my unfavourable education briefly, tapped on the old wooden door.

"Mr. T? I've brough' yer supper." My voice was ever cheerful as I trilled out the nickname I'd given him. I never knew why I did this-perhaps I thought that a friendly alias would make him warm to me a little more. I paused, waiting for an answer. "Mr. T..?"

It was a few moments before I heard his brief reply.

"Hm?"

"I've brough' yer supper, yer ol' silly." I laughed a little, "Didn' yer 'ear me?"I twisted the handle and stepped into the room, pulling a face at the rush of icy air that met me. "Oh, Mr. T, yer's gonna catch yer death in 'ere! Wha' have I told yer about puttin' the fire on in the evenin'? One of these days yer gonna get a nasty cold, I'll tell yer now, so don' go blamin' me when yer do, cause we don' need no more expenses fer medicine or whatnot. Speakin' of winter, wha'do yer think about a tree fer Christmas? I though' it migh' be nice ter get Toby a couple of things too, 'cause he's such a good lad, he does more than his fair share in the shop… "

My voice was talkative, as it always was. It had always been in my nature to talk; and for this I hoped it may bring him out of his shell. As I spoke I placed the tray down and slipped the bowl onto the table, drawing out the chair for him and crossing the room to light the fire. When I finally stood and looked up again, I saw that he still had not moved from his armchair, his pallid face sullen, eyes glazed with some emotion I couldn't fathom.

"Mr. T." My voice was a little sharper this time. His head snapped up. "Yer 'ave ter stop doin' this, love. Sometimes it's necessary fer me ter speak ter yer. Now come on, let's get some food down yer."

He took a deep breath, and drifted over to sit where I motioned. I smiled warmly, pleased that he for once had done as I had suggested, and took the seat opposite as he ate. I watched him closely, my pupils carrying across his sharp features and deep set eyes, until he seemed to notice and looked at me quizzically.

"Wha' are yer lookin' at, Nellie?"

I could feel my face flush a light pink, but I trembled slightly where I sat as his voice rumbled over my name.

"It's nothin'." I said quickly. "I jus' though' yer looked a little pale-mus' be the cold, likes I said." I tutted, hoping that it was enough to cover up my silent admiration.

"I don' feel the cold." He muttered, and I could tell by his voice that he was put out by my doubt in his well being. I rested my elbows on the table, placing my chin in my hands.

"Yes yer do, love. Yer's only human." I could see him flinch slightly at those words, but I said nothing more of it. We silenced again as he finished off the bowl, but this time I didn't much mind, as long as I got to watch him. He didn't mention a thing either, meaning that he hadn't noticed or had stopped caring. At length, he placed the spoon back into the bowl and sat back to mumble something of thanks, and I moved round to gather it up with one hand, and running the other back though his hair. "No problem, Mr. T. See, yer needed tha', didn' yer?"

He smiled vaguely, a rarity in itself, and I felt a warm glow spark up inside of me. I frowned at his temperature, placing the hand I'd used to sweep back his hair on his forehead. He grumbled and shifted back out of my direct touch.

"Yer's warm, love." I said, concerned, "I 'ope yer 'aven't already caugh' somethin'. Tell yer wha', yer wait 'ere an' I'll get yer a nice warm mug of tea, how's tha' sound?"

Sweeney gazed up at me with near black eyes.

"I'm fine." He insisted, and it was only then that I noticed the growl in his voice was not natural, and hung heavily in his chest.

"No yer not, don' be silly. Now I think yer should probably get ter bed if yer gonna be ill, Mr. T-"

"I'm fine! It's nothin' I can't handle. I think I've been through worse than a cold, Mrs. Lovett, don't patronise me. Jus' leave me be, will yer?" He stood abruptly and took back his previous seat. I'd heard the harsh bitterness in his voice that time, and it made me freeze for a moment or two, lingering by the door before I finally stepped through it and down the stairs, absently rinsing the bowl through. As soon as I placed it back inside the cupboard I could feel the tears threatening to spill over, my hands trembling ever so slightly. I raised them to cover my face before I realised what I was doing, and ripped them away.

_Why're you letting him get to you, you silly woman?_ I thought to myself angrily,_ You've had worse than that from men before, so why the hell is this any different?_

I gathered myself again, replacing the cheery exterior as I made the tea. I knew just how he liked it: black, one sugar. I carried the warming liquid back up the stairs again, bracing myself for an irate tone and a glare, but to my surprise I found he was already asleep, head dipped slightly in a peaceful slumber. I couldn't help but smile as I observed him from the doorway. I'd never seen him look so unwound, the prominent frown lines that crisscrossed his features eased out. I placed the tea down on the table, in case he woke up, and tiptoed from the room, feeling very much like a little girl having ventured into her parents' bedroom without permission.

Leaning back against the door to close it as quietly as possible, I made a pledge to myself.

"I'll look after yer, Mr. T, no matter if yer think yer don' need ter be cared fer." I whispered to the door, as if I were speaking to him. Turning on my heel to cross the landing, I spotted a little silhouette standing at the top of the stairs. He mimicked my whisper, in case there was some need to be speaking in low voices, I guessed.

"Who's yer speakin' ter, mam?" Toby asked.

"It don't matter, Toby." I smiled fondly. "C'mon, let's go sit by the fire an' I'll give yer a game of dominos."

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**A/N: Well okay, ít's not the best thing in the world. Unfortunately I had to block out the story and show how the characters relate to each other and all that rubbish. It'll be better next time, promise...**

**Suggestions of what should happen/comments/constructive criticism are more than welcome. I actually take note of comments. ;D**

--Kabbage of Doom


	2. How it could be

**Hi again!**

**Well here we go with chapter two-it's a lot better than last time as promised, and I enjoyed writing this one :D**

**AngelofDarkness1605 - Thankyou so, so much for the kind review! I've had a nosy in your fanfictions too and you are amazing. ;)**

**Elliyah - Lol! I know you're ill, so I appreciate the random smiley of doom 8D**

**(As you can see, I try to reply to my reviews both here and personally. So yaah. If that's any motivation for you to R&R, then great 83)**

**R&R = Cupcakes**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, I would have taken all the characters out on a picnic. ...I have never taken the characters out for a picnic.**

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I blinked with bleary eyes up at the ceiling.

I had slept a lot better than I had expected, and although I realised that the rest would have done me a whole lot of good, I couldn't quite bring myself to escape from the ideal little world I had contained inside my head.

I was safe there, and so very happy to be Mrs. Nellie Todd who owned a whole house nearby where the shore lapped against tawny sand, where the moon glittered with an eerie beauty by night and the sun shone brightest by day. We had four children, Mr. Todd and I-and a fifth already conceived and soon ready to be brought into the world. I could see them up ahead: each wearing a great smile as three ran upwind to try and set a kite into the air; and the youngest of them, fair haired and clutching a lollipop tightly in her little fist, stumbling behind in an attempt to catch up with her racing brothers and sister.

I felt a presence at my back, moving swiftly to my side, and all of a sudden my own hand was being grasped by something warm and comforting that curled over my fingers protectively. I smiled, a little bashful at first, although I knew whose eyes would meet mine as soon as I looked up from the sand. If only I were brave enough…

The world around us flickered out for a few moments. Those were the few moments in which my eyes had fluttered open slightly, and I had seen the ceiling.

Back on the beach, I could hear his voice-though it seemed a million miles away.

"Nellie? Why won't you look at me?"

My ears had never heard such a thing. It was his voice, but not; for I knew it would never have withheld such concern, especially for my sake. I shook my head.

"I-I can't, Mr. T…" I couldn't see it, but I was sure that he'd frowned.

"Why not?"

I took a deep breath, "You's not real. This…This ain't real…"

"Wha'? Wha're yer talkin' about? Nellie, explain…"

"None o' this is real…" I repeated, smiling sadly at the footprints that my imaginary children had made in the sand. At how that was all they could ever be, simple figments of an anguished mind.

"Don' be so silly. Wha's gotten into yer? Nellie..? Mrs. Lovett..?" His voice was fading now, and I had to listen very closely to hear it. I might have asked why he had referred to me by Albert's surname, had I not already established that it was impossible for the real world to be so perfect. I knew I would have to awaken eventually.

I could see nothing of the beach after that, simply blackness, but curiously a voice kept calling.

"Mrs. Lovett? Mam, wake up…"

"Toby!" My eyes snapped open at the pleading little voice, sitting up much too quickly, making the world spin for a couple of seconds before I could focus on his face. And when I did, my reaction was instantaneous: I crawled over to the other side of the bed and pulled him softly onto my lap. "Oh Toby, wha's the matter, my lamb? Wha' yer got ter cry about…?"

I was cradling him like a small infant but he didn't object, simply whimpered in the most piteous manner and buried his face into my chest. I swore then that my heart almost melted-and I was already furious with the thing that had wronged him to such extent.

"Toby, love…It's alrigh'…Yer safe, I'm 'ere…" I hushed, easing my hand gently through his hair. I remembered doing the same thing to Mr. Todd the previous night, and in comparison, Tobys' locks were so much softer. Though, I countered the little voice in my head, to do that to Sweeney had made butterflies of my stomach. After a moment or two I forced myself to concentrate on the situation rather than become lost in a daydream. "Wha' 'appened, pet?"

Toby sniffed, and mumbled into my chest dolefully, "Mr. Todd hates me."

I paused for a moment.

"Why woul' yer says tha'?" My voice was almost cautious. I was frightened then, frightened of what I might be told.

" 'E shouted at me, mam, all 'cause I caught a cockroach in a jar an' 'e wanted me ter kills it. But I couldn' kills it, mam, I couldn'!"

I soothed the fresh flood of tears and once again found myself thinking deeply about the situation. Poor thing, he was still so innocent; and while I knew I could brave his vicious side when it decided to raise its ugly head, it was clear that Toby could not. Damn if he ever discovered our little secret if he thought that the death of a cockroach was so terrible. The idea sent a horrifying chill down my spine. What would he think of me then?

I decided to stick to the point. There was no logic in fretting about something that I would never allow to happen.

"It's alrigh' love, I'll speak ter 'im." I reassured him, adding wryly and more to myself than to him, "Not tha' he'll listen. Give 'im a piece of my mind, I will."

"Oh, woul' yer, mam? Thank yer so much…" I could feel his grip loosen a little as he looked up into my eyes, the tears slowing, " 'E scared me."

"I know, love, I know…But Mr. Todd ain't no-one ter be 'fraid of, 'e does care fer yer really." I knew that the statement may well be a lie. I had never heard him speak much of the boy, in the little he spoke at all. And at that moment, I was too furious with him to care. I was so tired of my opinion about him morphing to fit his chosen state of mind, I just wished he would decide upon a way to act so that would be the end of it. I hated myself too, for being so caring the previous night, to making the promise to myself that I would look after him. Apparently, he was in no way ill enough for it to have put an end to his irritability.

I turned my attention from my thoughts again. "Toby, is the cockroach still alive?"

"Yes mam," He nodded, "An' 'e wasn' doin' anyone no harm, he wasn't. 'E doesn't deserve ter die, an' 'e likes it in tha' jar, it's a lot safer cause 'e won't get stepped on."

He chuckled a little, and I couldn't help but laugh under my breath for his strange sight of the situation. I had never before thought of a cockroach having any emotions at all. After a moment or two of weighing out the consequences, I answered him with a smile.

"Tell yer wha'-yer go an' get the jar an' yer can keeps 'im in yer room, but only in the jar mind, I don' want 'im gettin' into any pies, an' not a word of it ter Mr. Todd."

"Wow, thank yer mam! I won' tell a word; an' he'll stay in the jar an' won't get into no pies, not ter worry mam." He stood eagerly.

"I 'ope so Toby, or they'll all want one. " I rolled my eyes, but with good humour, and it raised another laugh from the lad. "Yer run along now." I prompted, and he obeyed without question, "Not a word!" I called after him, shaking my head with a nostalgic smile.

If only I could be as carefree as he was again.

If only time had not told me that being oblivious did no one any favours.

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After I had given Toby his oats and eaten my own breakfast, I had about two minutes while I prepared some toast for Mr. Todd to plot my revenge.

Although, it wasn't in all honesty what I would have called a vengeance of sorts-I had no intention of raising my voice to him, I don't think I would have dared. I knew who would win a match of strength or loud voices, but I had a sly mind on my side and I hoped that it would be enough.

I didn't knock on the door that time, as I usually would have done out of courtesy. I saw out of the corner of my eye that he was tarrying near the window, looking out the world below in his usual brooding manner, but I tried not to let my eyes drift too much in his direction.

"Breakfast." I said shortly, placing the plate down on the table and took his usual armchair by the fire. He seemed to notice the bitter tone to my voice and turned himself slowly in my direction, as if it were an effort to pause in his loathing for the people outside to be noticing me at all. It made me grip the arms of the chair a little tighter, but to distract myself glared in the direction of the door which I knew lead to the room in which many lives would be taken tomorrow, tried to submerge my mind in why I was supposed to be upset. Only because under his direct stare I knew that my confidence was already lacking a little, and I didn't want to be caught out and afraid by looking at him; or even worse, forgive him immediately as I did for most things.

"Why'd you snap?" He asked, still unblinking. I didn't speak, nor answer him. "Mrs. Lovett. Explain."

I winced slightly, but covered it quickly with my previous irate gaze. I recognised it as the word he had used in my dream, yet as I had predicted, his real intonation was full of nothing but resent.

"Mrs. Lovett, explain. Now."

I struggled to remain silent for a while before my supremacy caved in at last.

"Yer don' like change, does yer, Mr. T?" I replied, my voice somewhat absent. My gaze didn't shift from the door-in a moment or two, I was sure I'd have every groove in the wood memorized.

"Answer me proper!" He growled, and I could sense the furrow in his brow. I took a steady breath.

"As soon as I stop talkin', Mr. T, yer don' likes it. An' tha's because yer don' likes change. Well, I don' like change either." I finally moved my eyes to him. And just as I had presumed, the look on his face was terrifying yet alluring at the same time. He held my stare solidly, almost making me waver, but I stepped slowly across the room to him as I spoke. "I don' like it when _yer_ change either, Mr. T. I want yer ter decide…whether yer's angry with the whole world, or the whole world exceptin' me an' Toby."

" 'Course I'm not angry with yer and Toby. Wha' got tha' into yer head?" He took the final step that I would not take, so that we were almost face to face. I had an overwhelming urge to run away and pull him closer all at once.

"I-I…" I was trembling again from that exhilarating sense of fear and passion. My voice came softer this time. "Why did Toby come ter me this mornin' in tears, Mr. T…?"

He sighed sharply.

"Maybe 'cause yer mother him too much, Mrs. Lovett. The boy needs discipline, an' he's certainly not gettin' any from you." His voice was then as quiet as mine, but with a hidden threat that I caught in his tone instantly.

I was sure he had shifted closer, though it might have just been my imagination. I could feel his breath brushing my cheeks and although I knew he was just doing so for intimidation, my face was flushing red again and my logic was swiftly clouding over.

"It was a bit…I-Irrational…Mr. T…" My voice was lost as he began to step forward, and obediently I took steps away from him until my back hit the wall, shocking me abruptly and making me gasp, turning my head to see what I had bumped into. Before I could orientate myself, his hand was at the base of my neck in a powerful grasp, and though I squirmed a little in his grip to free a little breathing space, my heart pounded away in my chest with joy.

He was touching me. _He._

"I want yer ter get these thoughts out of yer head, Nellie." He growled softly. "I don' ask fer much, jus' a few clean shirts now an' then, an' fer you ter make the pies. I'd appreciate if yer would leave my decision alone, an' no further action will need ter be taken." I felt a cold metal blade press up against my throat. I squeaked, though my breathing was still oddly fast in pace. "Alrigh'?"

"Yes Mr. T." I answered automatically, breathlessly, lost within his powerful midnight irises. He gave a satisfied little sound in the back of his throat, and I blinked. "Wait. No. I'm mad at yer…I'm meant ter be ma-"

The blade pressed ever closer.

"Tell me yer gonna forget, Nellie." It was not a request. It was an order. I nodded sheepishly, and to my relief he pulled the razor away and slipped it back into some hidden compartment within his jacket. He pushed his face right into mine, his eyes piercing black into my own. "Good." He whispered. Our noses could almost touch.

My heart almost came to a halt altogether. It would only take me to lean forward just a little…

And being the stupid, irrational fool that I was, I took advantage of our close proximity and kissed him.

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**Dun, dun, DUUUUN! Haha ;D**

**Remember to R&R, loves!**

**--Kabbage of Doom**


	3. How it comes about

**EDIT: Sorry that I had to upload this again, for some reason it made the whole thing bold and it was annyoing me :) lol**

I'm back with chapter threeeee! 8DD

**Goodness, I'm really getting into this fic. It's fun. No, really. XD**

**So I was listening to this song as I wrote it, it's called 'Where Will You Go' by Evanescence, so I suppose it kinda inspired the story. Some of the lyrics are at the start, and just in case you haven't guessed, I don't own them or the song itself.**

**It's times like these when I hope you read the rating. I'm not ashamed to write about, well, to put it plainly, sex; and I think written in the right way it can be beautiful. Just to warn you.**

**There are also some kinda victorian expressions that you might not know, so I'll tell you now so they make sense when you readeth:**

**'Cold as a wagon tire' = 'Dead'**

**'Bully for you' = 'Good for you' (In the case you'll find below, it's sarcastic XP )**

**So yeah. I was gonna put some responses to the comments I got, but my fingers are hurting from typing all day, and I reckon I've bored you enough with this EXTRA LONG authors note. But anyone who commented, I love you. :D lulz.**

**Well here we go then. The moment you've all been waiting for:**

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_**"So afraid that anyone will hate you, You pretended you hated them first.  
You can't escaspe the truth, I realize you're afraid--  
But you can't reject the whole world. " -Evanescence**_

I was going to die.

I was going to die because he would pull the blade from his pocket to set my fate securely into that of his numerous victims before me.

I was going to die because I had been too bold this time, and he would never forgive me. If he did not take the razor to my throat immediately I was sure that I would have done so myself later, unable to live with his hatred for me.

I was going to die because-as Mr. Todd had told me a thousand times over-I deserved to.

Yet none of these really seemed to matter, since I was going to die for the simple fact that I loved him; and it was so unjust.

He was still as I touched my lips against his, so motionless I could have mistaken him for one of the stone statues that Judge Turpin had had imported for the front of his mansion of a house. Nevertheless, I stuck obstinately with my plan, knowing that I had to make the most of my final moments; because I was soon going to die, for whatever reason, and there was no sense in going back on myself now. Although I received little recognition for my act, it was still the most wondrous moment, and I knew that I did not regret it.

I persisted for a while, moving my hands up slowly to loop my arms around his neck, pressing us softly together. If he could not feel my heartbeat then, I was sure that he would have heard it at least. I ghosted his lips at first before I stole inside, hardly daring to believe what I was doing: but I couldn't think, couldn't stop, couldn't see. As time was launched into a standstill, biding me a few more precious seconds, I silently and gently requested a response, shifting up my hands again until they nestled in his coarse hair in invitation.

I realised that so little time had passed, and such a lot had happened. There was still no reply to my soundless appeal, and I knew that I would most probably have to draw it to a close and accept whatever fate had in store for me next. I sighed softly against his lips as I drew back, tears prickling my eyes. This time I was not afraid to show them-because I was going to die.

I had kissed him, was holding him, and I was going to die.

I heightened my gaze to observe my killer.

His face had morphed entirely: where there had once fury and dominance, from what I could see through my clouded vision, there was now only a sense of incredulity lining his features. It took me by surprise, and though I would never have usually displayed such an emotion outright to him, I was going to die, so a sharp intake of breath was all I had to give him as an answer. The tears flowed faster. He was going to realize what I had done at any given moment and kill me, but I was satisfied. I had done the one thing I had vowed to do before my life was over.

I closed my eyes and rested my head against his shoulder, not having the strength to truly bawl. I breathed in the scent of his cologne as I waited for the darkness to claim me. Yet it did not. I waited to die, but my breath was not cut short.

He pushed me away a little, though not enough to pull us apart-I had a vice like grip around him anyway, so that when I died I could be as close to him as possible. His curious eyes seemed to bore into my every feature, laying bare all my emotions for him to see. I felt almost humiliated, and something urged me to break the silence.

"It's okay if yer kill me, Mr. T…" My voice was hoarse from the tears, but I pressed on, "'Cause tha's the way I want ter die…"

After a few moments he shook his head gravely. For what cause, I wasn't sure, but I would have missed it if I hadn't been watching close. My lips still tingled as a result from my abrupt burst of courage, and it was about the time where I had registered this feeling that something very frightening happened.

My back met the wall again, a lot more forcefully than before, and all at once he was the one kissing me. I could feel sheer influence at his mouth, instructing me to obey his will when I had only asked for a little comfort. I had done so out of love, and to soothe myself and he for our dark thoughts; but there was nothing of these sentiments here.

Yet to my absolute disbelief I was responding. Though not with his strength or force, I felt my lips wilfully mimic his own, my hands knotting in his hair, heart racing faster than it had ever done before. I had to catch my breath when he moved off a little and I felt his hands at my back, finding the strings that when tugged would loosen my dress. I didn't know what to do then-I was frightful of what he could do but I wanted it to happen more than anything.

I only had an instant in which to make my decision. So I reached behind me, taking his hands and easing them away cautiously, knowing he could full well overpower me anyway, but offering him that trust. I met his eyes in an uninterrupted gaze.

We stood there for a while, me simply holding his hands and staring into the two enthralling dark orbs.

"Is this not wha' you want?" His voice made me jolt, for his tongue was cutting. "Is this not wha'll get yer off my case, Nellie? I'm sick an' tired of watchin' you watch _me._"

I struggled for words, for what must have been the first time in my life. When I did answer, my voice was still thick with tears.

"I jus' wanted to know wha' it felt like, Mr. T…" I eyed the floor, becoming the guilty child I had been a night or so ago, when I had crept into his room without permission. "I wanted ter know wha' it felt like before…Before I died."

A flicker of confusion passed across his face before he slid his hands from mine and crossed the room with four steadfast strides. I listened to his boots hit the floor each time with a dull clunking sound, wanting to run back to him but knowing I couldn't. I sniffed, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

"Bloody 'ell, Nellie." He muttered, "Bloody 'ell. Wha' in Christ's name am I ter do with yer?"

_Kill me._ I thought, _Please, kill me. I don't care, Mr. T, don't you understand? I want you to kill me so no one else can…So I don't have to do it myself…_

The clink of bottles told me that he was in the liquor cupboard, and sure enough when he spun on his heel to face me he had a glass in hand, drinking much of its contents in one go, and pulling the odd face we all pull when alcohol burns the back of our throats. With my mind having worked overtime and decidedly shut itself down to all logic, I laughed once, hastily pulling a hand over my mouth to try and disguise it as a sob.

I had not fooled him in the slightest.

"You're mad." He told me, "Hysterical. An' wha' over? Because yer though' I was gonna kill yer." Taking the rest of the drink, he poured another, swallowing it back at once. "Bloody 'ell." He said again.

"Yer can talk!" I giggled, though there was no joy in it. "Maybe we can be mad as hatters together, Mr. T. Not tha' I'll be mad fer much longer, cause when yer's cold as a wagon tire there's no' much yer can say abou' bein' mad…"

"Listen, Nellie-"

"…Don' yer think tha's strange, Mr. T, tha' people can't talk when they die? Wha' if they had somethin' 'portant ter say, or they wanted ter…"

"I wouldn'-"

"…Do somethin' before they died, jus' like I did, 'cause tha' was the thing I wanted ter do before I died, Mr. T, an' I did it, but don' yer think tha's mad in itself 'cause-"

"NELLIE!" At his voice, I let out a little scream of shock. His abrupt tone had jolted me from my overwrought ramblings and thrown me back into harsh reality. "Hell, when I tries ter speak yer don' let me!"

"S-sorry…" I managed, my face draining of colour.

"Hm." He growled, setting out another tot of gin, and crossing the room to hand it to me. "Drink this, yer barmy ol' woman. Migh' knock some sense into yer. Lord above, did yer honestly think I'd ever put a blade in yer throat?"

I sipped the drink cautiously, almost as if I feared he had poisoned it.

"Yea. Yea, I did." I said quietly, staring down into the little swirls of the liquid. "'Cause it's wha' yer do ter anyone who gets ter yer or does somethin' yer don' like. An' yer don' like me, Mr. T, an' I jus' got ter yer."

"If I didn' like yer, Nellie, yer'd have been dead already." I raised my eyes from the glass. Words like those were so good to hear from him. "Bloody 'ell…Yer though' I could…Bloody 'ell…"

"Yer…Yer _like_ me, Mr. T?" My voice was high pitched with hope.

"I…" He paused, dropped his stare for a moment, and seemed to renew its force. "Who else do I 'ave, Nellie? _Who else? _Shit…"

I heard him curse quietly under his breath and he began to pace. Exhausted from my various battles of emotion I sunk down into his armchair. I realised how much it smelled of him, and wanted to simply shut my eyes again and sleep, but there was something I had to know. I placed the empty glass on the floor and looked back to him.

"So yer don' hate me?" I questioned. I saw him tense; ball his hands into tight fists.

"No." He growled tightly. "Like I said, I'm not mad at you and Toby." I think he saw the look of desperation I was giving, and sighed irritably. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Of course I like yer, Nellie, yer stupid little girl. Do yer know how childish tha' was? Yea, I coul' 'ave taken yer then an' there, likes yer wanted up 'till the last moment, an' I coul' have done it anyway-but I didn', yer notice?"

I squinted a little in thought. He was so complex. So the fact that he didn't take me against my will meant that he liked me?

_How could I have missed that? _I thought, full of blatant sarcasm. I simply rolled my eyes and tutted to show my displeasure, but he didn't seem to care.

"Alrigh'." I said, swallowing. "If yer don' hate me, an' yer sure yer like me-do yer love me?"

I was certain that I felt the room ice over. His shoulders dropped, and I could see one hand stray momentarily to retrieve the razor from his coat pocket out of instinct, but he let it fall.

"What." There wasn't even a trace of question in his tone. I gulped.

"Do yer love me, Mr. T? Cause yer…Yer kissed me back…"

"Because I wanted yer ter stop dreamin' an' get it out of yer system." He said, his voice deep and resonant, with the concealed warning I had become familiar with. "Stop dreamin' an' live in the real world fer once, Nellie. We are but adults-and adults don' even think about lives we can never 'ave-by the sea, in a cottage, it makes no difference-let alone loving one another. We'd never be able to pull it off. One day, we're both gonna die fer wha' we've done an' we're gonna go ter hell."

It took a few moments for all this to sink in. And when it did, I found my own eyes were seeing red.

"So this is wha' yer think!" I snapped, and as I stood brought a foot down heavily on the floorboards, "Yer jus' always mopin' about wha'll happen after our lives are through! Wha's the point in tha', Sweeney, it's not as if we're ever gonna get no-one else but each other! Don' yer understan'? Are yer tha' incapable of feeling?"

The tears had returned, but they were angry this time. It was only at the end of my fulminating I realised what I had said, but I was close to not caring.

"Oh, I'm perfectly able ter love." He retorted, "An' yer think I'm not the one who understands? Well come 'ere an' listen ter this, my pet." He beckoned with his hands, and I hesitated. "Come on, righ' 'ere, an' I'll tell yer everythin'."

I carefully trod the space left between us until I stood in front of him. My breathing was erratic again, and I made little involuntary squeaks as I tried to stop weeping. I felt so foolish, so stupidly vulnerable.

He spun me around with swift decision, placing a blade against my throat and whispering back into my ear, making me shiver with anticipation: "I was only protectin' yer, nothin' else. 'Cause I woul' be a terrible husband. I don' even know who I am any more-Benjamin Barker still lingers somewhere, he's the side tha' keeps me rational. Yet most o' the time, yer seein' Sweeney Todd, an' 'e woul' rape an' use an' kill yer, given half the chance."

Petrified as I was, his breath at my ear was intoxicating, and I could feel myself slipping back into the state of mind where I would do anything to please him; anything at all. I shook my head no at his words.

"Mr. T…Yer's not bad…I wouldn' care wha' yer did…Yer wouldn' be a terrible-"

He'd tilted his head then, and though the razor was still keen in its hold, he placed delicate kisses down my neck, pulling me back so I could lean my weight against his chest. Despite myself, a quiet sound of contentment escaped me, and with half lidded eyes cast my face to the side to search for his lips so I could perhaps steal them once more, but at this he moved his face away and back to my ear.

"See how easy it is, Nellie?" He rumbled, and drew the silver harmlessly across a space just from my skin, and tucked it away. "I coul' 'ave changed my mind an' killed yer instead. I can love, 'course I can. But fer me ter love, I have to be Sweeney Todd, an' he woul' be an awful someone ter be givin' tha' love to."

I let out a little cry of desperation.

"No…No yer's not. I love yer, Mr. T, more than anythin'_._" I turned slowly, resting my hands on his chest. I felt his steady heartbeat, which told me that he was perfectly calm about it all. _Well bully for you, _I told him with my eyes. I moved my hands to his waistcoat, undoing the two buttons I found there. "Please…I really don' care, Mr. T…Take wha' yer like, I won' complain…I'll be yours, Mr. T, an' yer can do wha' yer like…Just…Please…"

If I could not get him to feel the same affection as I did, I would appeal to his lust instead. He hadn't objected so far, and my hands were already loosening out his cravat and swiftly casting it aside, making a job of his shirt before he placed his hands over mine. My heart sank.

"No." He said firmly, but his voice was not so harsh. "Too soon, Nellie."

I couldn't back off-I wouldn't. It would only show weakness, that I would be a bad lover. I waved away his hands and continued my job as quickly as I could; and feeling his arms move to restrain me again, paused halfway and pressed my lips against the warm exposed skin, trailing them gently across his chest. I heard a very, very small sigh fall from him, and presumed that I was indeed getting somewhere.

I spun around again, taking his hands and placing them at my back to render everything I had. I didn't care now, truly, he was the only thing I cared about in that moment, and I wanted it to happen; but doubted he would take up my offer.

He growled again, in what I first thought was annoyance, but to my surprise I felt the material loosen from around me a little, just to make bare the top quarter of my back; and he returned the kisses to the flesh he found. It was enough to raise another sound from my throat-a sound I had long forgotten I could make.

And then he was tying the strings again, nudging me forwards.

"Too soon, Mrs. Lovett." He said simply, and looking back once at the expression on his face, knew I had to walk away.

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**Review! Review! Review! 8DD**

**Thanks for reading, love to you all :)**

**--Kabbage of Doom**


	4. How do you play?

**Helloo! 8D**

**Sorry for the wait for this chappie-I haven't had time to write in a while .o**

**And just to let you know, I shall be away for tomorrow and the weekend visting the place itself-yes, you guessed it, London! 83**

**So yep. Enjoy. R&R = luffles and cupcakes.**

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He was so easy to hate.

And it was so easy, while I churned the handle to the grinder in a continuous circle, to imagine that it was his body I was crushing into fine strips. I watched the blood drip from the meat that proceeded to cascade down the opposite side, a wicked smile playing about my lips as I pictured him feeling the same torture as I did inside, until I had completed my job and I realised just how foolish I had been.

I did not hate him, not in the slightest. In fact, I had never more adored him.

The affection he had shown me the previous morning had not been wasted on me, and I could barely think of it without wanting to forget my work altogether, drop all notions of needing to retrieve money from the customers and simply run up to his shop to plead for a little more repose. The only thing that stopped me from doing just that was the fact that I knew what would lie just within the innocent looking wooden door.

Mr. Todd would be killing today, and I wasn't sure whether I thought it might release a little of his tension or simply make him short-tempered and liable to change his mind about everything.

I didn't think I could stand another shouting competition with him. I had stopped myself from shattering so many times before, but I had become but a wreck since the previous day. I found myself willing to hang on his every word, allow him to control me at his whim. Another unconsidered word or glare might just be enough to break me.

I found myself living in my head for much of the day, simply playing the memories back in my mind over and over. The remembrance shone through more vivid each time, sweeping me clean from physical existence. When I managed to hear a few of my regular customers comment upon my unusual silence and I could not come up with a valid response, I knew that Sweeney had been right.

_I wanted yer ter stop dreamin', _he'd told me. …_Stop dreamin' an' live in the real world fer once, Nellie._

Still, as his voice echoed back with a clear instruction, I knew I was still imagining myself into a world that no longer existed. I had never been good at taking orders, but for him I would damn well try.

"I'm jus' a bit weary, darlin', tha's all." I told the man, waving a dismissive hand, and reached over to pour him another glass of ale.

It was how I got by that day, on the notion that I had to keep existing for his sake. However, as the afternoon was drawing to a close and I could finally praise myself for doing such a good job with sticking to the laws he had grounded, everything changed.

I had simply passed the stairs at the wrong time.

It was usual for me to cast eager glances up at the little balcony, in hope that I might catch sight of his face at the window as he drew in another customer; except on that day, where I knew it would do me little good. I had managed to forget this in my happiness for the persistence of the other rules I had taken to-just for a moment, mind- and I knew so because he had emerged from his shop entirely and seemed to be scanning the crowds, and I had seen it. From then, I could not shift my eyes away.

There seemed to be a mildly content look on his face, and I began to wonder if the murder of a few people had done him favour after all, and I breathed a sigh of respite. Perhaps then, I could get him to come round that night. Perhaps it would be just like the day before, or better. I was already trembling slightly for the thought of it.

It was then that our eyes met and I cast mine aside a little nervously. What was wrong with me? I had never feared him as much as I did now, but neither had I held him more dearly; and the two conflicting emotions clashed in my stomach, making it twist painfully. When I dared to raise my sight to him again, I almost jumped when I saw that he had in fact been looking for me.

"Somethin' the matter, love?" I called, making sure that my voice retained a light-hearted edge so that neither the customers nor he would be suspicious. He didn't reply in voice-not that I expected him to-but raised a hand to beckon to me in a similar way he had done the morning before. I froze. I had never been called by him in public, especially in the middle of a shift.

I was torn momentarily by the need to stay with Toby and serve the customers, and the desire to please him. But only momentarily.

He stepped back into the confines of his shop, and closed the door behind us when I followed. I stared at it unblinkingly for a few seconds before I remembered my pact and faced reality.

"I 'ave things still ter do, Mr. T." I told him, with a soft giggle. I hoped that my inner anxiety wouldn't be portrayed, though there was a very slim chance that I had managed to conceal it. "So wha'ever it is yer's needin' me fer, make it quick?"

"Make it quick..." He echoed my words as a mumble, and nodded vaguely. I think he might have said something else too, but I didn't hear it. I don't remember much of what he said from that point.

He stepped towards me and placed his hands at my waist to draw me close, causing a gasp from my part as I took the steps involuntarily, placing my hands once again at his chest to steady myself as I stumbled forward. As soon as I was near enough, he spun me round on the spot, and his fingers began to work at the lace of my dress again, and I let out another silly little laugh-yesterdays events were repeating themselves, and I being desperate to cling to that assurance, could not quite see this as reality.

"Wha' was that for?" He growled, and I shook my head quickly, scalding myself for my foolishness. He had paused in his action, and I feared that he would never continue in it. He was silent himself for a while, and then I felt the sharp air wash over the uppermost of my back again. I waited with bated breath for the warmth of his lips against my cold skin, but it never came.

"M-Mr. T…?" My voice wavered with expectancy. I didn't know whether to be disappointed or simply wait, but something was making me impatient-as if I didn't grasp the moment now, I would lose it completely.

"Silence." He told me, and it was another direct order. I knew by now that when given said order from him it was best obeyed, but something would not allow me to hush.

"Mr. T, please…" I turned slowly on my heel, grasping the lapels of his jacket gently, pulling him forwards into my embrace. He placed his hand briefly over my mouth and this time as he touched me I did as he wished. I almost hated myself for begging like that, but I knew I would do anything at all to ensure our fate together.

He slid one of his hands under my now loosened corset, making my breath come as fast as it had done before-embarrassingly so-and wound his arms around my middle. His temperature had not dropped since I had felt his forehead; and I wondered briefly if it were not a fever he had, and he simply held that warmth within him. What was it they said about warm hands-a cold heart? Or was it the other way around…?

I had little time to wonder, as he pressed his lips with force against mine, making me squeak with surprise. It was always as though he was fighting me in every situation we were together in. Even then, where he was wrestling for the dominance he already knew he had, and I as always reassured him that he had total control.

I broke away, caught up in the moment and unable to plan out my actions clearly as I usually would, and acting on impulse nuzzled up under his chin and pressed hasty kisses to his neck, moving my hands to undo any buttons I found, but he dipped his head to capture my mouth again; and though I was grateful for this I could not help but be disappointed. I wanted to give him affection, too. I wanted to give him a reason to believe I loved him.

He lifted his free arm to take the pins from my hair, allowing it to run loose and untamed over my shoulders, and I felt fingers run themselves back through it; raising a sound of gratification from my lips that all but mimicked the one I had made the morning before, if a little louder. In hope that he would be distracted, I pressed myself closer to him and raised my leg to hook it around his knee, but the hand came down and pushed it back until my foot hit the ground again.

The little noise I had made turned to that of frustration. In discouragement I tried again, but in vain.

"But I…" I began, silenced by his mouth. I obeyed him for a while, moving across the room where he led and pushed me lightly to fall back into the barber's chair –the chair that had once been Albert's. I shook my head slowly, struggling back against his powerful kisses. "No…Not 'ere, Mr. T…"

"Silence!" He roughly snapped my head to look into his eyes-coal black, torching my soul if they could. "Mrs. Lovett. You take this without a sound or not at all."

A few tears welled up in my eyes at the discontentment. I didn't want to be reminded of my late husband when I was hopefully building a new relationship altogether. His eyes, still glaring into my own, seemed to sense my unwillingness and it was then that he backed off altogether.

When he was gone, I allowed the tears to fall.

* * *

_**---Sweeney Todd POV**_

What in hells name had I been doing?

I had known it was going to be a bad day from the moment the sun had risen, and Lucy had eyed me accusingly from my palm, her usual glistening silver figure splashed white from the sudden glow of the light which followed. She could tell when I was up to no good-she understood me, but could not provide what I truly wanted of her.

I sighed raggedly. Caught up in a moment or not, I knew I should have been keeping my distance. Yet I had promised myself a game: promised that I would let myself toy with the woman's emotions for a while to release a little of my frustration. The touches I wanted to give to Lucy I laid upon her, although it was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

I had realised that evening that my little source of amusement had begun to spiral out of control. I had called upon her simply because the kills had made me lustful. I had willed her not to speak for fear of shattering my little belief when the voice I would hear would not be my wifes. And had I not seen within Nellie that she still remembered that brainless husband of hers, I would have had my way with her.

I knew I had to be the only thought on her mind to allow myself to get away with such a deceiving act.

Yet I did not want her to love me. Love was such a strong emotion. Far too strong in this case.

I grit my teeth and plunged my fist into the door I had been leaning on, the wood caving in around it. My mind was broken, for sure. I couldn't distinguish what was right.

I needed to continue the game.

Lucy screeched furiously from inside my pocket.

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**Le gasp! A surprise point of view! (: haha**

Yeah, it was a bit short, but I had to rush it a bit. I have to go pack. XD  
So sorry if it's not up to my usual standard.

**Toodles, m'loves, have a nice Friday/weekend.**

**x x x**


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